


Summer Nights

by Ophelia_Tagloff



Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Car Sex, Dirty Talk, Ejaculate, Exhibitionism, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Intercrural Sex, Masturbation, Semi-Public Sex, Thighs, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-17
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-25 17:15:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2629853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ophelia_Tagloff/pseuds/Ophelia_Tagloff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom’s American girlfriend takes him to a good old fashioned drive-in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Pillow Talk is an actual movie. If you haven’t seen it, you need to get your life together right now and do so.

“What are we seeing?” Tom asked as I angled my classic Mustang into a spot between a tiny coupe and a pair of Harleys.  
“Pillow Talk. You know, Doris Day. Rock Hudson. Tony Randall.”  
“So a sixties sex comedy. A girl in the big city. Lots of innuendo. ”  
“Exactly,” I smiled as I put the car in park.  
He leaned back in the corner where seat met door and leveled a gaze at me. “Racy. You know, I’ve never been to a drive-in cinema.”  
“Consider it a perk of dating a Yankee. And it’s called a drive-in movie, thank you very much.” I winked at him, leaning back into my own opposite corner and toeing off my shoes. I rubbed the arch of my foot on his thigh and laughed as he gripped my ankle hard, giving me a playful growl.  
“Behave, sir.” I teased.  
“Not a chance.”  
I was feeling more and more cornered, even though the ragtop was down and the car was open to the dusk.  
I smiled and let out a shaky breath, “So, are you hungry?”  
Tom smiled at me for just a moment, his eyes flashing, but grinned and decided not to press my accidental entendre.  
“Not very, no.” his eyes finally left mine to trail down my body. A light sweater, cut-off jean shorts, feet still bare. “I have to say, darling, you look especially fetching tonight.  
I smiled in reply and tried to withdraw my feet from his lap. He shook his head and cinched his brow.  
“No, I think these sexy feet can stay right where they are.”  
The movie reel began to roll and true to Tom’s assumption it was all pastel and allusions of sex. It was lighthearted. Ms. Day was a vision. Rock Hudson dashing.  
I glanced over at Tom.  
The light from the large screen played over his face, but his eyes were set firmly on me. He tilted his head.  
“Come here,” he whispered.  
“No,” I smiled “There’s not enough room.”  
“Of course there is. I’ll move back.” He spread his bent legs wide and patted the ample slice of seat between them.  
“Oh, come on.”  
“Yes, darling. Come on,” he widened his blue eyes in a tease.  
I slid over the bench seat - rare for a Mustang - and Tom angled one long leg onto the cushions giving me room to rest between his thighs.  
Ah, there it is. Something hard pressing against my lower back. Of course.  
Even to myself, in the privacy of my mind, my snark reared it’s ugly head. My body - being all woman - had another idea. I broke out in gooseflesh, responding immediately and unmistakably to him.  
He couldn’t help but notice. Reaching behind me he grabbed a plaid picnic blanket and unfolded it over us.  
“There, that’s it,” he whispered, hot breath fanning over the back of my bare neck.  
With our bodies covered from the prying eyes of nearby car occupants, I expected him to waste no time in claiming me with his hands. Fingers everywhere, mouth at my neck.  
But I was mistaken. One large palm pressed me up against his chest, my head falling back against his without any resistance.  
“Ahh, I see the appeal of this American institution.”  
I laughed quietly, and held a contented smile as his fingers drew light circles on my belly.  
“But I don’t think I’m the only one.”

I turned my head to see his face, and he nodded toward a nearby car. Windows just cracked, the inside steamed up. I could barely make out the curves of a female form, kneeling over the driver. She was looking down at him, her body moving in a slow and subtle rise and fall.  
Jesus Christ.  
I flushed, heat spreading - well, everywhere. I opted to deflect. “So you like to watch, Tom?”  
He didn’t parry in response. “Sometimes, yes.”  
My flush grew warmer at his nonchalant confession, then my breath stalled as he dipped his mouth to my ear.  
“But right now, I’m thinking we could do better.”  
Somehow I hadn’t noticed how his hand had slowly moved from my stomach to cradle the bottom curve of my breast. His other hand traced the line of my jaw, turning my mouth to his. His parted lips brushed mine, his tongue tracing the smooth inner curve of my bottom lip.  
My breath shuddered. His whisper came low and soft, breath fanning over my face.  
“Are you alright with this? With all these people around?”  
My assent was more of an exhale than a word, “Yes.”  
He bit his lip and watched my mouth, my white teeth pressing into lower lip, “So, you like to be watched?”  
My own pink tongue wet my lips and I arched back against him, bringing my mouth up to his in answer. One large warm palm covered my breast between my sweater and the blanket - a soft possessive squeeze - then his long fingers went to work circling the dark dimpled flesh surrounding my nipple. He pinched me there, right on the nipple, fast and hard and I moaned into his mouth.  
I wasn’t quiet.  
“Shh. Darling. Someone will hear.”  
He followed that chide up with another swift pinch and I arched into it. This time silently.  
“That’s a good girl. Do you think you can keep quiet?”  
“I don’t know.”  
“Hmm. Pity, I’d hate to cover that pretty mouth with my hand. The looks we’d draw would be scathing.”  
I giggled quietly as his hand slid up under my top, over my belly, to tug one cup of my bra down, exposing my breast.  
“What I wouldn’t give to have this in my mouth right now,” he whispered against my neck, “my tongue flicking nice and slow over your nipple.”  
His fingers were busy, mimicking the proposed action of his mouth the best they could.  
“Then dragging my teeth over it before suckling you,” he paused, “Rhythmically.”  
He scraped one nail over my erect peak and pinched again, this time slowly, with purpose and just a little pull.  
Rhythmically, yes.  
I opened my mouth in a silent moan writhing against him, I could feel the press of his hips against my ass.  
“I love to make you cum like this. Toying with your gorgeous tits.”  
“I can’t, Tom…” I shook my head, rolling to back and forth against his hard chest.  
“Yes. You can. Let me.”  
He unfastened my shorts and palmed my firmly at the juncture of my thighs. One long digit dipped between my warm lips to circle my entrance.  
“So wet. You do like this, don’t you? With all these people around, watching you. You writhing and bucking like a feral animal, wet and ready to be fucked?”  
His skilled middle finger began working my clit - in his well-practiced motion - circle, tease, brush, press. His mouth was hot at my ear.  
“If I took off this blanket, they’d all see. My hand down your shorts, you fucking my fingers… so close. You are close, aren’t you, love?”  
I bit my lip to keep from crying out.  
“Yes, that’s it. Try to keep quiet. You don’t want anyone to hear. All these people around. Couples, families. If you make too much noise..”

He was winding me tighter, the singular pressure centering below my belly. Tom didn’t let up, pushing me higher, winding me quite literally around his finger.  
“You’re going to cum aren’t you, right here out in the open where everyone can see? Give it to me, show them how you grind your ass down onto my cock. Open your eyes and watch them watching you.”  
My eyes still clamped tightly shut, I broke apart around his hand. I bucked hard against his body and bit down equally as hard on my lower lip. Copper flooded my mouth, a voice from a distant part of my brain chided you must have broken the skin on your lip. Light flashed behind my eyes and I stilled my hips against him as he held me there fast, wet and shuddering.  
Long minutes later, my eyes opened and with the opening of my eyes, the fast return of my modesty.  
“Do you think anyone actually saw that?” I cringed.  
“God I hope so, it was astonishing.”  
His hips rolled against me, still insistent. I snaked my hand between our bodies to trace the hard outline through denim. I took my time, but for his part, he hissed through his teeth, desperate.  
Unfastening his jeans as deftly as he had mine, he pulled me onto his lap. My legs spread over his.  
“Close your thighs around my cock,” he muttered against the back of my neck. “God, yes. Tighter.”  
I increased the pressure around his shaft, my inner thighs slippery from my own arousal.  
Tom dug his nails into my still-clothed hips and rocked against me, jaw tight. “Dear God, I haven’t done this since I was a kid. Fuck you feel so amazing. Tighter. Please.”  
I tensed my muscles and he groaned.  
“Shh..”  
“Shit. Sorry,” his thrusting had crossed the line from subtle to more obvious and I did begin to question if those side-long glances knew exactly what we were up to under that blanket. And then…  
“Cross your legs. Now,” he growled.  
I pulled one knee over the other and felt Tom tense under me, holding me fast against his lap just a split second before a warm moist pulse spread on the inside of my thighs.  
“Fuck..” he breathed, as I relaxed against his chest. “Sweet Jesus, that was amazing.”  
I rolled so I was cradled on his lap, my head nestled beneath his chin, still acutely aware of the warm stickiness that dripped over the soft flesh where my jean shorts ended.  
“Yes it was.”  
I looked up at the screen. Our heroine was in a gorgeous red cocktail dress, blond bouffant for days.  
“God,” I said, “she’s so pretty. What a classic beauty.”  
“Oh I don’t know,” Tom lifted my chin, “nothing at all compared to the beauty I have right here.”


End file.
